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For a moment she stares into my eyes impassively. Then, pulling back her long blonde hair back from her shoulders and fastening it with a clip, she sets to work.

My ankles are tied to the legs of a chair with stockings and she has wedged a pair of her panties into my mouth. My hands are securely handcuffed behind the chair back.

She looks at my erect penis with disgust and puts on some surgical gloves. Taking an electric shaver from her handbag she kneels between my open legs and begins to shave off my pubic hair. I watch as most of it falls to the floor, but one wisp catches on her blouse and she knocks it off with repulsion. Soon I will be shaved. Soon I will be ready.

She’s nearly finished now and my dick is still hard. For a moment she seems unsure what to do, but then she gets up and I hear her running a glass of cold water in the kitchen. "I’m not trying to be disobedient," I mumble, but it’s unintelligible through the gag.

She comes back with some ice and the cold water. Roughly gripping my penis she plunges it into the icy mix and my legs push against the binds with the shock. It’s working though. It’s going down.

Quickly she selects the smallest cock ring in the box and slips it over my balls. Then, before I have a chance to recover from the icy water, she pushes the cock restraint over my dick. I start back in pain as it catches a stray remaining pubic hair, but that only has the effect of making my penis more limp and easier to insert into the cage. Finally, and with a look of satisfaction on her face, she snaps the padlock in place.

Locked.

She leaves the room for some time. I can’t believe how tight the cock cage is, even though my penis is quite limp. I watch the door, waiting.

Finally, she returns. She’s hardly ever worn a skirt, but she’s wearing one now. It’s very short and my eye travels down her long pantyhosed legs. She walks towards me and puts one foot on the seat of the chair. I can feel her pantyhose against my inner thigh, the pain from my dick intense as I try in vain to get an erection. She knows exactly what sexually excites me. In her hand she has an ankle bracelet, and hanging from it is the key to the padlock on my cock cage. Slowly she attaches it to her ankle, making sure as she bends and curves her legs that I can see up her skirt.

She picks up my signed confession from the table and puts it in her handbag. Then she stands in front of me, her legs slightly apart, and unclips her hair. It falls back over her shoulders and she smiles. I’m looking at the key on her ankle chain, glinting in the late afternoon sun.

“I think I might take a picture and send it to your girlfriend." She spits out the words with unconcealed hatred. "Poor slut, she’ll have to find another woman’s husband to lay now. Or maybe I’ll invite her round, tell her to get all dressed up just the way you like her?”

She bends down close to my face and whispers in my ear:

“You try and remove that and I'll run you in, husband dear. Prison or chastity? The choice is yours."

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